


New Year

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Story of Three Boys [18]
Category: Glee
Genre: Brothership, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-01
Updated: 2011-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shana Tova; two looks at Noah Puckerman (and New York City).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teaser

Rina looks at the clock and huffs. She shouldn't be surprised; Noah's made no real effort to be home, except for Monday nights and most Sunday afternoons. She thought _maybe_ , being hurt, he'd be inclined to stay home a little more, but of course not. He'd been out late the night before, and tonight he'd sent her a text message. _studying w/ K - hm l8_

How nice of him to let her know.

Still, she needs to be in bed soon, like Hannah already is, and that means she needs to write this note to leave for him. Tomorrow is Rosh Hashanah, and she _will_ make sure her children are at services. She tries hard, even when they don't appreciate it.

Their attitude in the car on Thursday morning is no surprise at all. Actually, Noah's attempt to make it seem like everyone should respect their holidays is a bit of a surprise, but _of course_ it's couched inside yet another version of why New York City Is Awesome.

Rina sighs. In her mind, Lima's just as good as any other town; she can't imagine the way they'd have to live in a place like New York City. She knows Noah wants to leave, but it'd be so much easier on Hannah if he wasn't so far away.

No consideration.

Still, at least he has a direction for his life. Six months ago, she definitely wouldn't have thought that was possible. It would have been better if his direction wasn't _music school_ , of all things, and even though she likes Kurt just fine, Rina knows Noah's life would be easier if he wasn't gay.

Or if he had to be gay, why couldn't he have realized it _before_ he impregnated a Catholic girl who gave away Rina's granddaughter? Not even a picture!

Rina shouldn't complain. Noah's always tried hard. He's just like her; they both try hard. Their best intentions may not make a difference, but at least they try. Hannah seems to have a golden touch, just like Zeke fancied himself to have. Ironic that his best qualities are in the child he only met once.

Rina walks into services and sits down with a sigh. She hopes the new year will be good. She looks to her left, at her children, and sighs again. In her heart, she knows.

Noah's already gone.

 

Noah Puckerman is a nice boy, Leroy Berry thinks. Not so nice a boy that Leroy didn’t breathe a sigh of relief when Noah’s short-lived dating of Leroy and Hiram’s daughter came to its swift and inevitable end, mind you, but certainly a nice enough boy, all things considered.

Leroy knows Rina has had her share of hardships with her son. The poor woman has traveled a long and bumpy road in her life in general, Leroy muses, and it’s no surprise she’d have trouble with her own children. From what Hiram has said— which isn’t much, because while his Hiram has never met a story he can’t double in length, he’s not a gossip and he’s not cruel—Rina’s own childhood wasn’t any kind of fairy tale. Hiram mostly skirts around the topic of Rina’s father and what little he does share with Leroy doesn’t leave Leroy curious for more.

Leroy glances down the pew at Rina. She looks so much older than she should, the skin around her eyes tight and tired. He’s sure part of it is work; her hours are long for someone with no partner at home to help with the children and day-to-day home maintenance. The rest of it, though? Even in this relaxed and peaceful place, she looks tightly wound and almost comfortably angry, like angry is a favorite garment she doesn’t remove, but just layers other emotions on top of it. Leroy isn’t sure he can blame her.

He also isn’t sure he can blame Noah for wanting to get away from her. Rachel came home bubbling over with joy about Noah’s acceptance to Hunter College in New York City, and seemed sure it was the first of several acceptance letters Noah would be receiving from New York-based colleges. Leroy was surprised, because the young man never struck him as particularly academic, but Leroy is the first to tell you that looks can be deceiving.

Leroy hopes the boy _does_ get away, if getting away is what he needs. He hopes that whatever damage Rina has inflicted on him—and even Leroy can see that there’s damage—won’t be too much of a hindrance in his own life. Leroy hopes that it won’t be a burden Noah will pass on to his own children, or that he won’t fall into the pit of “love gets you nowhere” that Rina seems to dwell in. It would be a shame for that reasonably nice young man to end up alone because his mother has painted him such an unpleasant picture of the future.

New York sounds like a very good plan for Noah, come to think of it.


	2. Episode 3x03

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High Holidays, football, and a stray Warbler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [playlist for this episode](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL76822074D8F79F9F)

_...so I’ll be there at 9:30 and hopefully you won’t miss all of your glee rehearsal. Love, Mom_

Puck groans as he finishes reading the note his mom left taped on the front door where he couldn’t miss it. Rosh Hashanah–one of the few times each year his mother requires that he and Hannah go to services.

Usually he appreciates missing class, but it seems ill-timed this year, already behind from earlier in the week, and the only person he really can get notes from for English is Rachel, who’ll be at services, too.

Plus he’ll have to leave in the middle of physics and will miss fourth period, which means little to no morning Kurt. Fuck.

 _Sorry, big guy in the sky_ , he thinks absently, but Puck’s pretty sure God didn’t intend to make Puck’s life harder.

“I have to go to temple this morning,” Puck grumbles when he climbs into the Nav after work. “Rosh Hashanah. So I’ll miss part of physics. And I don’t know when I’ll get back this afternoon.”

“You sound so thrilled.”

“Eh. It’s just really bad timing, you know?”

“Yeah.” Kurt reaches out and squeezes Puck’s hand. “How’s it feel this morning?”

“Check it.” They’re stopped at a red light, and Puck turns to face Kurt before barely cracking his right eye open. “Depth perception again,” he snorts.

Kurt smiles and brushes his hand lightly over Puck’s cheek before the light changes. “Good. I missed seeing both eyes.”

“Yeah, I missed seeing you out of both of them,” Puck grins. “I did notice Rickenbacker literally running away from me yesterday morning in the hall.”

“Guess he’s not so tough without his friends?”

“Something like that,” Puck nods. Somehow Puck’s unsurprised when Rachel falls into step with them as they walk in from the parking lot.

“Shana Tova,” she starts, and Puck stumbles over returning the greeting. “Are you going to services today?” Rachel plows ahead immediately. “Only, I’m not sure if we’ll miss glee rehearsal or not. Good morning, Kurt.”

“Good morning, Rachel,” Kurt nods.

“You look almost martial today,” Rachel notes, examining Kurt’s outfit, and Kurt merely shrugs.

“Sometimes the best defense is a good offense.”

Rachel nods after a second, then turns back to Puck. “Well?”

“Yeah, I’m going,” Puck sighs, sullen. “I’m already behind and missing English isn’t going to help, not to mention half my class time for music theory for the week. But I’m going.” He pastes on a fake smile, and Kurt shakes his head sympathetically.

“Oh, I know,” Rachel sighs. “It’s just not good timing at all! How did you get beh–oh, right,” Rachel shakes her head. “Sorry. This week has seemed forever long already.”

“Finn and I discussed fast-forwarding to Saturday, or at least Friday night, but we didn’t know who to contact.” Kurt shrugs and holds the door open for all three of them to pass through.

“Pity,” Puck agrees. “Be good, K.”

“I’m always good,” Kurt flashes a grin for a moment and then turns down the hall towards his first class.

Puck heads towards history to find Rachel giving him an odd look. “What?”

“It’s just interesting.”

“What is?” Puck raises his eyebrow.

“You and Kurt. Being such good friends, I mean.”

“Uh.” Puck scratches the back of his neck. “Why’s it interesting?” he finally settles for asking.

“Oh, it’s just–who would have thought?”

“Yeah,” Puck nods. “See you later, Rachel.”

“See you!” Rachel beams at him once more and turns down the hall, and Puck just shakes his head as he walks into history.

Puck decides that the best way to handle missing so much of the school day is by making a nuisance of himself during physics. They’re supposed to be working on a lab, but since Puck won’t be able to finish it, the teacher just told him to watch Kurt and get the data from him later.

“You could help, you know.”

“She said to watch you. So I’m watching you.”

“I think she meant the experiment, Puck.”

Puck shrugs and grins unrepentantly. “Hey, how often does a teacher tell me to watch you? I’m gonna take advantage of it. I mean, I watch you anyway, but I’ve got an actual excuse right now.”

Kurt just shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “If you say so.”

“You do look like you’re gonna join the army or something.” And he does, with some of those military-looking pants and a jacket, but they’re over a shirt and tie and a thick sweater, which is good, ‘cause it’s starting to get chilly in the mornings.

Kurt stretches out his legs, which reminds Puck that he’s got on some awesome-looking boots, too, except they look like they’d take a little while to take off, and keeps smiling. “That was sort of the theme, yes. The sweater’s vintage British Army issue.”

“Cool.” Puck lowers his voice. “So I shouldn’t rip it off you?”

Kurt looks straight at him and smirks. “No, you should watch me slowly take it off.” Then his eyes flick to the clock. “Think about that while you’re having a happy new year, okay, baby?”

Puck groans as he follows Kurt’s eyes to the clock. “Dammit,” he mutters. “Tease. I know, I know.” He pushes himself up off the stool and runs his fingers over Kurt’s shoulders as he walks behind him.

“Be good, baby.” Kurt whispers.

“I’m always good, blue eyes,” Puck grins, and heads to the door, the teacher nodding him out.

As he would have guessed if he’d spared her a thought, Rachel finds him before he exits the building. “You look like you’re in a surprisingly good mood.”

Puck’s still grinning, thinking about Kurt and taking off his sweater and unknotting that tie, so Rachel takes him a little by surprise. He jumps and carefully blanks his expression. “Oh, hey. Just, uh, thinking.”

“Must have been about something pleasant,” Rachel teases.

“Yeah,” Puck responds before he can think much about it. “I mean.” He rolls his eyes at himself.

Rachel just laughs for a moment. “So if you want, my dads and I can give you a ride back here for glee rehearsal, so your mom can take Hannah home.”

“Yeah, that’d be cool, thanks.” Puck nods as they exit the building. “See you in a few.”

“Was that Rachel?” is the first thing out of his mom’s mouth when he gets into the car.

“Yeah, she said she and her dads can give me a ride back here for glee so you two can go on home after services.”

“Oh, how nice of her. I’m sure we’ll be glad to get home, won’t we, Hannah?”

“Yes.” Hannah looks as thrilled about Rosh Hashanah as Puck feels.

“Having fun, squirt?”

“No.” Hannah crosses her arms over her chest. “Today was movie day in science and I still have to take more AR tests to get pizza at lunch tomorrow.”

“I told you, Hannah, I’ll take you to school early tomorrow so you can take your AR tests then.”

“Yeah, it does kinda stink,” Puck agrees with her. “Wouldn’t it be nice if no one had school today?” he adds quickly after he notices the look his mom is giving him.

“Yeah!”

“Hey, you know what’s kind of awesome,” Puck continues. “One of the colleges I’m applying to, it’s actually a school holiday for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, both.”

“Really?” Rina sounds skeptical at best.

“Really,” Puck confirms. “Mannes. Hunter’s the same way, too, I think.”

“But would you actually go to services?” Puck’s mom seems doubting at best.

Puck shrugs. “Maybe. There’s, uh. A pretty big synagogue in Manhattan.” He fidgets a little, because even though his mom’s generally supportive, she still seems happier when she doesn’t have to really confront the fact that he’s gay.

“Oh? Is it the closest to any of your schools?”

“No. It’s, well. It’s not too far, but it’s like, a gay synagogue.”

“There’s a synagogue just for gay people?”

“Well, and lesbians and transgender people and allies too, I guess,” Puck shrugs. “Like I said, it’s pretty big.”

“Hmm.” Rina falls silent after that and Puck just stares out the window until they stop. “All right, my children,” Rina says, “a little less sullenness, please.”

Every time he’s been to services with his mom since coming out to her, she’s made a point of making sure they greet the Berrys. Puck knows she still thinks he should talk to them or something, but it’s just really weird. Today is no exception, and Puck finds himself between Hannah and Rachel when they sit down.

Hannah looks across Puck at Rachel and makes a face. “I think you forgot your pants, Rachel.”

Puck snorts, because the tone Hannah’s using sounds exactly like Kurt. He looks over at Rachel, and he guesses he can see why Hannah said that.

“It’s a sweater _dress_ , Hannah,” Rachel says patiently. “Plus I have these great tights!”

“They’re argyle,” Hannah states flatly. “Argyle should never be used on tights. Kurt said so.”

Puck freezes for just a second, because if he’s honest, he has no idea when Kurt said anything to Hannah about argyle tights. Sometimes he’s just happy that Kurt seems to like Hannah and vice versa, so if they’re talking, he’s not gonna interrupt them.

Rachel laughs, a forced little sound. “Oh, he did? Well. When did he tell you that, Hannah?”

“Oh, after dinner the other night,” Hannah shrugs. “Noah was working on history before they did math.”

“Oh.” Rachel shoots Puck an undecipherable look, but before she can say anything else, the service begins.

 

The service drags on and on, or at least it feels that way, through all the prayers and tashlikh and shofar-blowing, and when at last it’s over, Puck pulls out his phone to check the time.

“3:20,” he announces to Rachel’s enquiring look. “So we won’t miss too much.” She turns to say hello to someone and Puck tells his mom and his sister bye, then follows the less-talkative Mr. Berry to their car. He climbs in and pulls his phone back out.

 _Finally done. Waiting on R. Berrys giving me ride back. xx_

“Girlfriend?”

“Uh, no,” Puck shakes his head. He figures it’s a fair assumption on Mr. Berry’s part, though. His phone chimes before he can say anything else.

 _Schue still rambling. Save me! xx_

Puck laughs for a moment as Rachel and her other dad finally climb in the car. “Schue’s rambling,” he says to Rachel in lieu of a greeting. “Doubt we’re missing much.”

“About what? What if he’s discussing something about Invitationals? Or, or Sectionals?!”

“Relax, Rachel. Sectionals are in December. Has Schue ever worried about them before the second half of November?”

Rachel frowns at him but shakes her head a little, acknowledging he’s right.

 

Kurt sighs a little as he walks into the choir room after school. He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on the daily routine until it was interrupted; stupid religions. The rest of the club trickles in one by one, and Schue comes in with his usual energetic cliches.

“Today we’re going to run through our complete set for Invitationals, plus hear a few more pieces that you’ve prepared about dreams. Who wants to go first?” He looks around the room, but before he can finish, Quinn stands up.

“I’ll go.” She walks to the front and smiles what Kurt refers to as her beauty-queen smile. “I’m going to sing ‘Dreams’ by the Cranberries.” The song is one that Kurt likes, but something about Quinn’s performance leaves him feeling flat. When she finishes, Schue starts talking again, about what Kurt isn’t sure, and when his phone vibrates, he doesn’t hesitate to check the message. He sends a quick text back to Puck and smiles a little, putting his phone away just as Schue turns his monologue back to invitationals.

“So, we’ll start with our first number for invitationals, ‘Pretending,’ if...” He looks around the room, puzzled. “Wait, where’s Rachel?” He looks around a little more. “And Puck?”

“Rosh Hashanah,” Finn and Kurt both answer together.

Finn laughs a little and continues, “Yeah, they’re both at Temple. Rachel goes regularly, but Puck’s mom just makes him go on the High Holy Days or whatever. They should be back some time during glee, I think.”

“Oh, all right. Isn’t Rosh Hashanah the day of forgiveness?” Schue asks.

“I think it’s their Happy New Year celebration or something. The forgiveness one is...Yom Kipp-something?” Finn cuts his eyes over to Kurt for confirmation, because Kurt is better at keeping track of that sort of thing.

Kurt nods. “Kippur, I think. In a couple of weeks.” He looks up suddenly at Mr. Schue. “Actually, hang on a second.” Kurt pulls out his phone and quickly types into Google.

“Yeah, Rosh Hashanah is the day that all of the Jewish people in Ohio go and cram into the temple,” Finn explains. “And then I think there’s some kind of food. I mean, there’s always _some_ kind of food. It’s some kind of cake thing.”

“We may have inadvertently offended some people,” Kurt speaks back up. “Mr. Schuester, we have Invitationals scheduled for the same day as Yom Kippur.”

“Well, I’m sure Rachel and Puck will understand,” Schue blusters. “And it hasn’t hurt our response with other clubs.”

“Uh, Mr. Schue,” Finn says, his voice a little sharp. “Rachel’s kind of one of our star performers _and_ it’s not like it’s new that she’s Jewish. I mean, if someone scheduled something on, I dunno, Christmas or something you’d probably be pretty offended.”

“Well, I’m not that religious,” Schue smiles a little, “and I think if there was a problem, surely one of them would have mentioned it before now, don’t you think?”

“You know how important performing is to Rachel,” Finn argues. “She wouldn’t say anything that might make you take away her solo.”

 

Puck has to walk fast to keep up with Rachel as she dashes through the halls, as she’s convinced herself on the eight minute drive that Schue’s on the verge of assigning all solos for the remainder of the year, including Nationals, during the time they’re missing, and that she’s going to be stuck swaying in the background while Mercedes and Santana sing a duet for every number.

They’ve just reached the door when Puck hears Finn saying “might make you take away her solo,” and he winces as Rachel storms in.

“Take away my solo? I wasn’t that late! It was a religious holiday! My dads have the ACLU on speed-dial!”

Puck turns to look at Mr. Schuester, who’s starting to look a little puffy and distressed, and just hides a smirk as he sits down in the empty chair that’s conveniently next to Kurt. “What’s going on?” he whispers.

“Rachel! No one’s taking away your solo!” Mr. Schue says, desperation in his voice.

“We discovered–okay, _I_ discovered–that Schue scheduled Invitationals on Yom Kippur. He’s been trying to justify it,” Kurt responds, also whispering.

Finn is up in the aisle, his arm around an excitedly-yammering Rachel, trying to steer her into her seat. Puck can hear Finn saying soothing things like, “Nobody would ever take your solo, Rach” and “Of course Schue likes you” and “Let me get you a drink of water, ok?” Once he has her settled into a seat with a bottle of water, she seems calmer.

“Relax, Rachel,” Mercedes pipes up. “Finn was just explaining why you might not mention Invitationals being scheduled on the same day as Yom Kippur.”

Puck’s still trying to figure out what exactly happened, but he can see the absolute horror in Rachel’s eyes as _she_ processes the information. Puck, he’s actually a little grateful that he has a good reason to get out of Yom Kippur services, but he’s pretty sure that’s not Rachel’s view on things.

“It’s... Mr. Schue! How could you!”

“He didn’t know, Rach,” Finn says to her, his voice calming. “Not everybody knows how important this stuff is. It’s Lima, remember?”

“But... but... I can’t perform on an empty stomach!”

“Empty stomach?” Finn asks, confused.

Puck leans over to whisper in Kurt’s ear. “I guess she’s one of those that actually fasts.”

Kurt shrugs and leans his head closer to Puck. Puck’s pretty sure one of them should pull back, but everyone’s focused on Rachel right now. “I suppose so. I’ve probably confused them all now.”

Puck grins. “Yeah, and you’ve won Hannah over, she was telling Rachel that she shouldn’t wear argyle tights.”

Kurt glances over at Rachel and nods. “Good girl.”

“An important part of Yom Kippur is the fasting!” Rachel exclaims.

“Oh,” Finn says. “I’m pretty sure Jewish God could make an exception for something _this_ important, right? I mean, didn’t he give you your talent so you could use it?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel wails. “I’m going to have to talk to Rabbi Greenberg.”

Puck just shakes his head. “You’d think you could’ve checked the calendar, Mr. S.”

“Well, I did check the school calendar,” Schue defends himself. “And we do have so few Jewish students...”

“A sixth of _us_.”

“Yeah, our _friends_ , not just ‘students,’” Finn interjects, tone heated.

“We can’t really change the date now, guys. I’m deeply sorry about this, but there’s nothing we can do. Puck, Rachel, if you feel you need to back out, I’ll understand.”

Puck just snorts and shakes his head. “I’ll be here.”

Rachel takes a deep breath, looking horribly conflicted, but nods after a moment. “I’ll be here.”

“Great!” Schue claps his hands together and smiles, though Puck’s pretty sure it’s a strained smile. “Let’s head towards the auditorium now and run through our set for invitationals.”

 

The run-through goes well, and then Rachel sings “I Dreamed A Dream” before Schue finally declares the rehearsal over and everyone leaves. Finn says something to Kurt about seeing him later, because he’s taking Rachel out for coffee to console her.

“I believe you said something to me about watching while you took off that sweater?”

Kurt grins. “I could be persuaded to remove it for you, yes.”

The hallway’s deserted, and the others all were ahead of them to begin with, so Puck steps close to Kurt, sliding his arm around Kurt’s waist, underneath his jacket. “As long as you let me help with the rest of your clothes,” he amends.

"When you put it that way…" Kurt smiles and puts his own arms around Puck, under Puck's jacket. "How could I refuse?"

Puck looks down the hall again for just a moment and then tilts his head, kissing Kurt softly and parting his lips for Kurt's tongue. Kurt deepens the kiss and Puck lets one hand drift downward, squeezing Kurt's ass gently. Kurt groans into his mouth, and then Puck hears a different noise.

Someone clearing his or her throat.

Puck breaks their kiss slowly, his eyes still closed, and rests his forehead on Kurt's before turning in the direction of the sound and opening his eyes.

Coach Beiste.

"Uh, hi, Coach," he offers, and he can tell Kurt's trying not to giggle.

"Puckerman," she nods. "Glad to see you're, uh. Feeling better." She shifts her gaze to Kurt. "Kurt, always nice to see you. You boys might want to take that somewhere else.”

"Yeah. Yeah," Puck musters up a smile, and Kurt's giggles are about to leak out. "Thanks." He steps back from Kurt but captures his hand and they squeeze by Beiste hand in hand.

“You, uh, be safe,” she adds, and Puck’s glad that his back is to her now, because his expression probably looks like Kurt’s–a cross between hysteria and mortification. They manage to make it outside before bursting into laughter.

"Puck?" Kurt gasps between giggles.

"Yeah?"

"I think Coach Beiste knows."

Puck's laughter re-intensifies. "I think so!"

They manage to calm down enough to climb into the Nav and for Kurt to drive home, still exchanging glances, a stray giggle leaking out of Kurt periodically. As promised, there's no one at Kurt's house, and Puck's thankful that Kurt removes his boots as soon as they get in the door. He didn't really want to waste time figuring out how to get them off.

Once Kurt's done, Puck steps close, sliding his hands under Kurt's jacket and slowly pushing it off his shoulders. He moves forward as the jacket moves down, finally placing his slightly parted lips over Kurt's, flicking his tongue impatiently into Kurt's mouth.

Kurt's lips open immediately, and his hands grab onto Puck, pulling him forward. It's a deep, fierce kiss, reducing Puck's thought process to one that's focused on getting upstairs as quickly as possible. Without breaking the kiss, he starts to steer them up the stairs, and he lets his arms go slack for a minute so Kurt can push Puck's jacket off his shoulders. Puck hears it hit his backpack, and then pulls Kurt close again, intent on finding themselves in the bedroom, fast.

They make their way up the stairs with minimal separation, and as soon as the bedroom door closes behind them, Kurt's hands are underneath Puck's clothes, pushing them up, and Puck pulls away carefully, shedding the sweater he wore in an attempt to look nice for services, and the t-shirt underneath it. He just stares at Kurt then, and Kurt runs his tongue slowly over his lips before reaching for the hem of his sweater and pulling it off at a snail's pace.

"It's a good thing you follow through," Puck can't help saying.

"Oh?" Kurt places the sweater on the top of his dresser and then pivots in place.

"Yeah." Puck unfastens his pants and steps out of them, and his underwear, on his way to where Kurt's standing. "Otherwise, you would definitely be a tease." He tugs gently on Kurt's tie, pulling him forward, and runs his other hand along Kurt's side and then across his back, pulling their bodies tight against each other.

"But I'm not," Kurt whispers, his lips against Puck's ear. "Am I?"

"No," Puck agrees, "you're not." He runs his hand up Kurt's tie, slowly working the knot loose until the fabric is dangling free on either side Puck's hand, and he slowly pulls on the longer side until all of it is clutched in his hand. He tosses it to the side and moves his hand back to Kurt's neck, his mouth kissing gently behind Kurt's ear as Kurt leans his head back. He slowly works open the buttons on Kurt's shirt, his mouth following behind, nipping and licking a path down Kurt's chest. When he's finally gotten all of the buttons undone, he pushes the shirt off, fastening his mouth briefly to each of Kurt's nipples, just enough for them to stand at attention and glisten a bit in the light. Then he pulls back, just drinking in the sight of Kurt for a long moment before his hands go to Kurt's waist.

"Sorry, no thong today," Kurt murmurs as Puck's fingers slide the zipper down, and he pushes his hands inside Kurt's pants, one in the front and the other in the back.

"All your underwear is hot, blue eyes," Puck whispers back, his tongue darting in and out of Kurt's ear. He pushes Kurt's pants down towards his knees, then hooks his fingers in the waistband of Kurt's underwear, inching it slowly off. "I fucking missed you today."

Kurt's head bobs up and down, nodding, his hair tickling Puck's cheek. "Missed you, too," he murmurs, stepping out of his clothes and then aligning his body with Puck's, their erections nestling together snugly between their torsos. Puck runs his hands over Kurt's back, down to his ass, and back up, settling them on Kurt's shoulder blades before kissing him again, urging the kiss deeper, determined to feel as much as possible at one time.

Kurt's hands squeeze between them and then lie flat on Puck's shoulder, pressing gently, urging him towards the bed, and Puck doesn't see any reason to argue with that idea. He collapses onto his back, pulling Kurt with him, their lips not separating. Kurt adjusts his position slightly and then bears down, thrusting against Puck, and Puck pushes himself up to meet the movement.

"What do you want?" Kurt gasps out, pulling away from Puck slightly and looking him over, one hand lightly tracing Puck's jaw.

"You, just you," Puck murmurs, leaning his face into Kurt's touch and rest his hands on Kurt's waist.

"I should hope so," Kurt grins, then nips at Puck's earlobe.

"You're just a bit possessive, aren't you," Puck laughs against Kurt's cheek.

"Maybe a small amount," Kurt concedes, giggling, and he falls to the side, the two of them curling towards each other. Puck runs his thumb over Kurt's cheek and kisses him softly.

"I'm feeling greedy," he confesses.

"Oh?" Kurt's voice drops lower. "Tell me, baby."

Puck closes his eyes and just lets Kurt's voice wash over him for a minute. "I love your voice," he says instead. "I love it when you talk to me like that."

"Like this?"

"Mmmhmm." Puck nods and kisses Kurt slowly. "Just like that. You're amazing, Kurt."

"You're pretty wonderful yourself," Kurt responds, his lips next to Puck's ear. "But tell me what you want. I want to make you feel good."

"You always do," Puck says immediately, opening his eyes. "You _do_ , blue eyes. You're just…. You're perfect."

Kurt presses his lips over Puck's, the resulting kiss fierce and sloppy, and Puck takes Kurt's hand, moving it under him and then rocking his hips down onto the bed, trapping Kurt's hand there. Kurt pulls away and nods a little, urging Puck's legs up and open. Kurt pulls his hand free, then brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them slowly, and Puck lets out a low, deep sound, eyes fixed on Kurt's mouth.

"Ohh," Kurt exhales, watching Puck. "I think I know what you want." He grins. "You are a little greedy." He slides his fingers around Puck's entrance and then bends down, his mouth at the base of Puck's erection.

Puck nods and his eyes close again, his head back against the pillow and his body taut, pressing himself against Kurt's finger. Kurt slips two fingers inside, and Puck sighs a little at the intrusion, relaxing around Kurt. Kurt licks a stripe around the base of Puck's cock, then slowly moves his tongue upwards as he pushes his fingers further inside Puck. "Oh, fuck, yes," Puck gasps out, and Kurt closes his mouth around the head of Puck's cock.

Kurt circles his hand around the base of Puck's cock, his fingers slowly moving deeper inside Puck and his tongue making a slow, lazy circuit. He hums a little, and Puck's hips buck, first upwards towards Kurt's mouth, and then down, pressing himself onto Kurt's fingers. He can feel Kurt's mouth curving around him, smiling, and his own lips grin in response. Puck puts his fingers through Kurt's hair, almost combing it, and Kurt slides further down on Puck's cock, the rest of his hand resting on Puck as his fingers make the rest of the way inside.

"Kurt, yes," Puck calls out, his body moving towards Kurt and his fingers tightening in Kurt's hair. Kurt tightens his lips around Puck and slowly parts his fingers inside Puck, making more noises pour out of Puck's mouth. Kurt slides up and down, his lips wet and soft against Puck's erection, and his fingers pump in and out of Puck in complementary rhythm. Kurt hums again, and Puck knows he won't last long.

Kurt continues his oh-so-careful work, turning Puck into a mass of quivering want and need, and Puck feels his climax approaching, steadily building until he feels Kurt's tongue slide just along the tip of his cock, dipping into the slit, and he comes with a long wail, his body clenching around Kurt's fingers and pumping into Kurt's mouth. Kurt's mouth stays on him until he is completely spent, and then Kurt gently releases him, fingers still buried inside Puck. Kurt places soft, open-mouthed kisses on Puck's chest, and eventually Puck opens his eyes, smiling lazily at Kurt.

"You want?" He begins, and Kurt nods, finishing the sentence not a necessity. "How?"

Kurt tilts his head, considering, and Puck makes the decision for him, turning on his side and bending his top leg. "Ooh," Kurt breathes, and he slowly removes his fingers, reaching for the bedside table. He makes quick work of coating himself and sliding freshly slicked fingers back into Puck, coating him as well. Then Kurt slides behind him, his legs twisting over Puck's bottom leg, and slowly pushes inside Puck.

Kurt moves in slowly, and Puck relaxes around him, drawing him further in. "Yeah," Puck says softly, "yeah, K."

"So good, baby," Kurt murmurs. "So tight around me. You're just amazing, god, so amazing." He moves in and out, slowly, adjusting to the different position, and throws his arm over Puck's chest. Puck just relaxes into the touch, willing to let Kurt take as long as he needs–or as little, but Puck's kind of hoping for the first, long, steady strokes with Kurt filling him and then leaving him almost empty before pushing back inside him. He just lets himself feel, feeling Kurt's chest pressed against his back and Kurt's arm across his chest, Kurt's breath hot between his shoulder blades. Kurt continues moving at a slow, steady pace, and Puck rocks his hips back to meet him.

"Oh, blue eyes," Puck whispers, letting his eyes close again, pushing back into Kurt's embrace. He loses track of time, caught up in the whispers falling from Kurt's lips, Kurt's scent wafting over him, and then the tiny grunts as Kurt gets closer to coming, before his body tenses, arm tightening around Puck, and he thrusts up hard, once, then twice, coming inside Puck, hot and thick. Puck's own spent cock twitches a little, but Puck remains still until Kurt has stilled, breathing heavily against Puck's back, then carefully sliding out.

"God, baby," Kurt says after a long moment, sliding up a little to rest his mouth on the back of Puck's neck. His hand twists above their heads and lands on top of Puck's mohawk, fingers fiddling with the short hair. "As much as I missed you today, maybe we should miss each other more often."

Puck chuckles. "Yeah." He reaches up with his bottom hand and twists his fingers with Kurt's. "There's got to be a better way than that, though."

"Mmm. Yes." Kurt sighs, his warm breath tickling Puck a little. "We should probably move. Finn can't keep Rachel drinking coffee forever."

"A'right," Puck accedes, and he slowly moves away, sitting up on the edge of the bed. "You going to put all those layers back on, blue eyes?"

Kurt slides beside him and shakes his head. "The house is warm. And if I get cold, well." He kisses Puck's shoulder. "You'll warm me up, won't you?"

Puck grins. "All you have to do is ask."

 

Kurt parks the Nav in the driveway behind Finn’s truck and makes his way up the stairs. Both he and Puck still have too much work to do over the weekend, but at least they’ll make it through Friday without too much trouble.

Kurt sits down on the bed and reluctantly cracks open _The Stranger_. He pulls one of his throws over his feet and lower legs and props himself up on some pillows, preparing to read as much of the book as he can stand.

“So that was crappy today,” Finn says from Kurt’s doorway, with no preamble.

Kurt looks up with some relief, quickly moving to put a bookmark in the paperback. “Moderately so, yes.”

“Sometimes I don’t know what Schue’s thinking,” Finn grumbles, flinging himself down onto Kurt’s bed. The bed protests with a loud squeak.

“Good grief, how much _do_ you weigh,” Kurt shakes his head, not really expecting an answer. “And you’re assuming that he is thinking.”

“It took me a half an hour to get Rachel calmed down. Even when I did, she kept going on about how she wasn’t sure she could choose between religion and her talent. It was really confusing,” Finn says. “I mean, I don’t see why she can’t just eat a sandwich. It’s a dumb rule.”

Kurt just shrugs. “I don’t know. Puck doesn’t fast. But Puck also eats bacon under his mother’s nose, so.” He suppresses a smile. “I suppose it just says a lot that the school calendar didn’t have even a note about it.”

“I know Mr. Schue is right, that we don’t exactly have a ton of Jewish students at McKinley,” Finn sighs. “Still, you’d think that he’d remember that the girl with the duet and the guy who wrote the music to it are Jewish.”

“I don’t think he forgot, precisely. I think he just didn’t consider that to be a factor of any significance. Which may be better or may be worse, I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, ‘cause religion has obviously never come up in glee, like, ever.” Finn snorts and flops over onto his back on Kurt’s bed, tipping his head back to look at Kurt upside down.

“Yes, and how many people did I frighten by knowing about Yom Kippur?” Kurt smirks.

“All of ‘em?”

Kurt laughs. “Probably.”

“I guess that without context, it’s just confusing for them,” Finn muses. “Heh. You look funny upside down. Anyway, one day it’ll all make sense.”

“Context.” Kurt shakes his head a little. “We, uh. Kind of got caught in the hallway.”

“Oh shit!” Finn exclaims, flipping back over. “By who?”

“Coach Beiste.” Kurt shrugs. “I think she sort of figured it when I showed up on Monday afternoon with the note from the doctor about Puck not playing for a week, anyway.”

“Beiste is cool. If you’re gonna get caught by someone, that’s probably who you’d want.”

“Let’s just say it was a toss-up between laughing hysterically and hiding my face in embarrassment.”

“At least it wasn’t Schue,” Finn says.

“Could you imagine? I think he’d be so mortified, though, that he’d turn tail and run the other way without us realizing he was there.”

“Uh, what did Coach catch you doing exactly?” Finn asks. “Or is it just better for everybody that I don’t know?”

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Kurt replies with a tiny smile and a roll of his eyes.

“That’s pretty inclusive, dude.”

Kurt blushes a little but doesn’t stop smiling. “We were just kissing. Nothing earth-shattering.”

“Mmhmm.” Finn sounds dubious.

“What?” Kurt raises his eyebrows, voice challenging.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Kurt just shakes his head, a small smile still playing on his lips. “What I haven’t actually figured out,” he says after a moment, “is the Hanukkah thing.”

“Eight days of presents. That’s about as far as I can get with it.”

“Right! Is it eight days of great presents? Small ones?”

“Um, I think they have to fit under the candleholder thing?” Finn says, sounding a little doubtful. “I don’t know. I gave her a Christmas present last year, but we weren’t actually together at that point. So maybe this year we’ll do Hanukkah. Oh! I know!”

“What?”

“I’ll tell Puck I’m not sure how it works and I’ll get him to tell me,” Finn says, pleased with himself. “And I’ll tell you, so then neither of us look bad, right?”

“That could work,” Kurt muses.

“I mean, it’s not like Puck will have a hard time believing I don’t know something,” Finn adds, “or that I’m afraid to piss Rachel off by doing it wrong. That’s totally believable, dude.”

“Being a _shegetz_ : we’re doing it wrong,” Kurt says dryly.

“I don’t even know what that means, so I definitely must be doing it wrong.”

“Non-Jewish males dating Jews. Or something.” Kurt shrugs. “But, yes, that might work. No one wants to piss Rachel off.”

“Not as scary as Quinn, but still scary,” Finn nods.

“I find it somewhat frightening that all your relationships have been with girls you readily describe as scary.”

“Maybe I like scary women or something,” Finn says with a shrug. “I mean, my mom’s kind of scary sometimes, so maybe that’s just how women are supposed to be?”

“Your mother is a lovely woman!” Kurt looks at Finn somewhat incredulously. “Carole? _Scary_?”

“You didn’t grow up with her, man. Sometimes kinda scary.”

“You must have done something dreadful, then.” Kurt smirks a little, wondering if he can get a good story out of this.

“Oh, not me,” Finn shakes his head. “She was girl-scary, not mom-scary. I feel kinda weird talking about it now that she’s married to your dad.”

“Oh, you’re no fun,” Kurt pouts, sinking back into his pillows. “Besides, I don’t know that I buy that whole date-your-mother or date-your-father thing.”

Finn shudders a little. “Well, when you put it like _that_ , I don’t buy it either.”

“Then again, your mother’s wardrobe does seem like something I could picture on Rachel in another twenty years.”

“Dude, uncool,” Finn glowers. “I like Rachel’s clothes.”

“I didn’t say anything specific about what she wears now,” Kurt replies primly. “Did I?”

“And you helped my mom pick out some great stuff,” Finn points out. “So maybe it’s a compliment for you to say that. Maybe that means Rachel will have awesome clothes when she’s my mom’s age. I mean, not that I’ll probably be around to see ‘em, but I’ll think fondly of her wardrobe.”

Kurt reaches out and messes up Finn’s hair. “I don’t think you’ll think about _anyone’s_ wardrobe any more than you do now, Finn.”

“Hey, watch the hair!” Finn shrieks in a high pitch voice. “I spend, like, thirty minutes on this every day!”

Kurt snorts in disbelief. “Thirty minutes what? Letting water run over it while you stand in the shower?”

“I have to be so _beautiful_ and so _fabulous_ every day, you cannot understand my pain!” Finn continues in the high pitched voice.

Kurt reaches behind him and grabs one of his pillows, whacking Finn with it. “Oh, I’ll cause you pain,” he grits, his own voice going higher.

“Don’t wrinkle my clooooothes!” Finn wails dramatically, falling backwards in a dramatic death scene. “Oh the horror!”

Kurt bats at him a few more times with the pillow, screeching. “Ohh, Finn Hudson, you are in trouble!”

“I’m just. Too. Pretty!” Finn screams, laughing so hard that each word is punctuated by a gasp for air.

“As long as you remember who’s the _prettiest_ ,” Kurt sniffs, hitting Finn with the pillow one final time.

“Course I do,” Finn pants. “It’s Puck, right?”

Kurt sinks back on the pillows with a happy little sigh, his eyes going out of focus a bit. “Yes. Definitely.”

“He doesn’t wear gargoyle tights, anyway,” Finn adds.

“Gargoyles?” Kurt breaks away from his contemplation with a confused look. “Gargoyle tights... oh, _argyle_.”

“Yeah, whatever. Gargoyle, argoyle. Puck doesn’t wear them, so that’s supposedly a fashion A plus or something,” Finn grins. “At least, according to Puck’s little sister, who, by the way, totally parroted you to Rachel this afternoon.”

Kurt just laughs. “She trains up well, doesn’t she? I do sort of wish I could have seen that conversation.”

“I dunno, she was all ‘why is Kurt over at Puck’s house so much?’ and ‘I didn’t realize Kurt and Hannah spent so much time together, that’s peculiar don’t you think?’ until I was just repeating ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about’ over and over again like I got stuck on loop,” Finn says, shaking his head. “You guys aren’t as sneaky as you think you are.”

“No,” Kurt concedes. “It’s actually more a matter of teenagers being self-absorbed, and no one is _expecting_ anything to be there. We’re really quite bad at it. And Puck has no poker face.”

“Well, if Hannah keeps dishing out fashion advice, I think Rach is gonna start expecting something to be there,” Finn warns. “She’s already asking questions and you know how she is. Dog with a bone, dude, she’s not gonna drop it if she thinks something’s up.”

“Anything else she’s asked about?”

“There’s the thing with Hannah now, but she’s made a few comments about how much time you two seem to spend together and how comfortable you are now. She meant it to be a compliment on how much you’ve both _grown as people_ or something, I think, but if she starts putting that together with other stuff,” Finn says. “Well, I’m not gonna confirm anything but I don’t have the best poker face either.”

Kurt just nods. “Well, those two things can’t be helped.”

“Just, I don’t think it would be as bad as you think. If she knew.” Finn immediately adds, “I’m not gonna tell her! I just think it wouldn’t be awful if she found out.”

“It’s not my decision, Finn,” Kurt says carefully. “You know that.”

“I know. I’m not saying he’s wrong, either. I just think it wouldn’t be as bad as either of you think. With her, anyway.”

“Rina would be thrilled,” Kurt muses. “She’s been trying to get Puck to talk to Rachel’s dads for months now.”

“It’s ‘Rina’ now?”

“Yes.” Kurt just looks at Finn steadily.

Finn nods. “Cool. Though I dunno about Rachel’s dads. They’re pretty cool, but...”

“Yeah.” Kurt makes a little face. “I’m sure she means well, but I’m not sure why she’s grasped onto the idea so firmly.”

Finn makes his thinking face for a moment. “Well, I mean, they’ve been together for a long time, like twenty years or something. Maybe Puck’s mom thinks they could give you guys some advice on making it work long-term or something? I don’t know if it’s any different for gay dudes than other couples as far as that goes.”

“I don’t think she does, either,” Kurt says, a little amused, “but it started the day he came out to her.”

“Maybe it’s, like, positive gay role models. Hard to be more positive than the Berrys. Those are some upbeat dudes. Gold stars everywhere.”

Kurt giggles. “Hopefully not everywhere.”

“ _Dude_ ,” Finn groans. “I hope you didn’t mean what that sounded like you meant.”

“I was merely talking about the toilet paper,” Kurt says loftily, but there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

Finn rolls his eyes. “You’re awful, you know that?”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Oh, dear god, we’ve turned into four-year-olds.”

“Turned? Dude, I have always been a four-year-old.”

“That... explains so much.”

Finn sticks out his tongue.

“As I was saying.”

 

Puck heads towards history on Friday morning feeling better than he has since Monday. Everyone showed at Starbucks like they have been for a few weeks, but he and Kurt hung back just a little and sat in the Nav for a few minutes before heading to school. He can actually see out of both eyes again, too, plus, well. It’s Friday. Gotta get down on Friday.

As he walks down the hallway, Finn falls into step beside him. “So, I have an important question.”

“I didn’t do it. Maybe. Maybe I did.”

“Not that. Or anyway, maybe we’ll come back to that, I dunno.”

“Uh-oh.” Puck grins. “I’ll worry about it later, then.”

“Anyway, Hanukkah,” Finn says. “How does it work?”

“How does it _work_?” Puck looks at Finn, confused. “Well, there’s a bunch of candles...”

“Not that part, assface,” Finn says. “The gifts. Like, how does that work.”

Puck looks as if he’s considering something for a moment, and then shakes his head a little. “Well, everybody’s different, ‘cause it’s technically not part of the whole tradition or whatever, I think. Mom’s always done the one bigger present on the first night, and then seven smaller ones. But... I’m guessing you’re asking because of Rachel.”

“Well, I mean, obviously,” Finn sort of sputters. “I’m not supposed to buy them for _you_ , right?”

“I don’t want your dirty socks, dude.” Puck smirks. “I don’t know, but her family’s more observant, so they’re more likely to go the route of eight smaller presents. Not smaller like size but like, price.”

“I seriously can’t imagine Rachel’s dads ever going _smaller_ with presents, dude.”

Puck frowns. “Yeah, good point. I don’t know, man. You’d probably be okay whatever you do, as long as you don’t give _her_ dirty socks.”

“What’s with you and the dirty socks? I mean, for starters, Kurt helps me shop. No dirty socks. Also, do you just get presents for your kids or for everybody? How do you know who you’re supposed to shop for? And how many things to get?” Finn looks confused, worried, and even vaguely annoyed.

“Dude, chill. I, uh, might’ve wrapped up dirty socks for Hannah her first Hanukkah.” He grins. “So, yeah, I don’t know. I get stuff for Hannah and a couple of things for my mom, too.” He scuffs his toe on the floor for a second. “Just... you know, get her one thing for each night. But they don’t all have to be things. Like, movie tickets or something one night.” Puck shrugs. “Or ask her dads sometime when you go to pick her up.”

A look crosses Finn’s face, like he’s remembering something, and he looks momentarily guilty. “So, you and Kurt,” he says, overly casually. “How are you guys gonna do it? Hanukkah I mean. God don’t answer that the way it sounded!” Finn’s cheeks turn bright red and he presses his lips together like he’s trying to squeeze the words back in.

Puck guffaws. “Oh, dude. Your face!” He laughs for a minute, his mind helpfully supplying answers to the question Finn _didn’t_ intend to ask.

“You know what I meant,” Finn mumbles. “It’s just, how are you guys gonna do holidays. I know Kurt’s not into religion, but dude likes presents and Christmas cookies and carols. And eggnog. He really likes eggnog.”

“I have nothing against eggnog,” Puck agrees. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s kind of hard to escape all the non-religious aspects of Christmas, right? So it’s not like I’ve never had Christmas cookies or gone caroling. Though some of those songs could use a little jazzing up, they’re getting old. Anyway.” Puck shrugs. “Eight presents over eight days is even cooler, right?”

“He likes the tree, too. He says it makes the house smell fresher and something about ozone, I dunno.”

“Ozone? Huh? Like the hole?”

“Dude.”

Puck just shrugs and grins. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”

“Don’t say hole. Just, seriously.”

“What about in the context of doughnuts?”

“Call it the doughnut _center_ or something. Or just say Munchkin,” Finn suggests.

They walk into the history classroom, then, and as they cross the room to their seats, Puck can’t resist another comment. “What about if I’m driving and there’s a big pot _hole_ in the road?”

“Pot spaces. Dip in the road. Come up with something.”

“What’s wrong with the word ‘hole,’ dude?” Sam pipes up from the row in front of them. “Hey, looking better, man,” he adds, nodding at Puck.

“Yeah, feeling better finally,” Puck says, then grins at Finn. “Finn doesn’t like that word anymore.”

“Just...like, contextually,” Finn explains without actually explaining.

“Sure, dude. Whatever you say.” Puck smirks a final time as the teacher walks up to the board.

 

Glee club brings a conclusion to the week of the ‘dream’ theme, which frankly Puck is pleased about. Mercedes sings some song that she says is from a Broadway show, and then Santana sings “Don’t Dream It’s Over,” which works surprisingly well. When she finishes, Mr. Schue scans the room with a frown.

“None of you have done a single song,” he says, mainly addressing Finn, Mike, and Sam, who are sitting in a clump.

“Uh, you didn’t say we had to do single songs,” Finn says. “I thought we could work as a group.”

“Oh, great,” Schue’s face brightened. “Who’s working together?”

“All of us guys. We’re doing this song ‘Boulevard of Broken Dreams’ by Green Day,” Finn explains. “That sound ok?”

“Sure, sure,” Schue nods. “Come on up. That’s from one of their newer albums, right?” He smiles a little. “Man, I loved _Dookie_ when it came out.” Finn covers his mouth and Puck suspects it’s to hide a laugh.

“I was like, one, when that came out,” Puck can’t resist adding as he walks up to the front of the room with the others. Schue just winces a little but doesn’t say anything else.

They haven’t really practiced much, a few texts exchanged about who will sing what, and Puck leads off with the first two lines before the others join in. They take turns singing a few lines solo and doing most of it as a group. They all harmonize pretty well, Finn doing the drums and Sam and Puck sharing the guitar part.

Halfway through the song, they’re all singing _Read between the lines_ when they exchange glances. Everyone else censors themselves, but Puck thinks to himself “screw it,” and sings out the entirety of the next line.

 _What’s fucked up when everything’s all right_

Finn and Kurt both elbow him in the side, though Kurt’s is more like a gentle poke, and he glances sideways to see Mr. Schue looking a little alarmed. Schue doesn’t stop them, though, and they finish out the song.

“Great job, guys,” Schue says at the end, as the girls clap. “Interesting choice for the theme.”

“It was a little... bleak, though, don’t you think? I thought the idea was celebrate dreams, not mourn discarded ones.”

“Life is a bit bleak sometimes,” Santana says with a roll of her eyes. “Dreams don’t always come true, princess.”

Rachel looks a little like a fish, Puck thinks, her mouth opening and closing rapidly for a few moments. Before she can respond, Schue breaks in. “Puck? Any updates for us regarding ticket sales for Invitationals?”

“Uh, sure.” Puck shrugs. “So the teams performing are us, that Jane Addams place, the Garblers, and some school out of Dayton–St. Brigid’s of Temperance, I think.” He smirks a little as he says the Garblers, because he’s not stupid, he knows it’s the Warblers, but it makes Kurt laugh a little.

“I think you meant the _Warblers_ , Noah.”

“Yeah, I know what I meant.” His smirk gets a little bigger. “There’s five teams that have bought tickets to watch, so far.”

“Five? Really? Who?” Quinn asks, a calculating look on her face.

“Aural Intensity, Vocal Adrenaline, those deaf kids, the–I swear, I’m not making this up. The Trojammers. Of Troy High School.” Puck waits while everyone laughs. “And a new team, the Liberteens.”

“Where are they from?”

“Liberty Township.” Puck shrugs. “Sounds kind of far away, but whatever.”

“And the concessions?” Schue prods.

“Well, you can see the list up there,” Puck gestures to the list taped to the wall next to their bulletin board. The board is covered in notes, now, new ones appearing and old ones disappearing daily. “It still needs a few things filled in.”

Schue looks around the room with the closest thing he gets to a stern look. “Everyone, take a good look at it, and please, ask your parents to volunteer to run the concessions for us.”

There’s a little bit of mumbling and some nodding, and even a couple of people managing “Sure, Mr. Schue,” before he appears satisfied.

“Let’s run through ‘November Rain,’” he says brightly, and it’s readily apparent what his favorite song for Invitationals is, Puck can’t help but think.

Puck and Kurt are walking out the door after the bell rings when a thought comes to Puck. “Hey, wait a sec.” He walks over to where the piano guy is packing up his stuff. “You go to all the elementary schools, right?”

The dude blinks and looks around, like he’s not sure Puck is talking to him, before nodding. “I do.”

“So, like, you think you could talk to the choruses? About coming to the invitational?” Puck reaches into his backpack and pulls out the stack of fliers Schue copied.

He takes the stack with a surprised expression, but nods. “All right. I’ll hand these out.”

“Thanks, dude.” Puck grins and then walks back over to Kurt. “I’m sort of hoping for enough for six hotel rooms, you know,” he says, bumping his shoulder against Kurt’s as Kurt laughs.

 

“You sure you don’t mind?” Puck asks again. “I mean, I’m not playing, but there are still recruiters so I feel like I should get there early.”

“It’s no big deal,” Kurt assures him. “Though I think I’ll make a run over to your place of employment and get us a warm drink. It’s going to be chilly by the time the game’s over.”

“That’s true,” Puck nods. They’re both dressed in layers, Glock t-shirts pulled over as the final layer, but somehow Kurt still looks impeccable. Puck hasn’t figured that out, but he figures he doesn’t have to, he just gets to appreciate it.

Puck leans over and tilts Kurt’s face towards him, kissing him softly before climbing out. “Be good.”

“I’m always good, baby,” Kurt smirks.

Puck grins as he turns around and heads towards Coach’s office. “Puckerman. Good to see you.”

“Hey, Coach. Thought I’d show up early anyway ‘cause of the recruiters.”

“I appreciate that. How’re you doing?”

“Better,” Puck nods. “Who’s here tonight?”

“Tulane, Blundt, and Georgia Tech. I think Tulane’s looking at Evans, Tech at Karofsky, and Blundt at Hudson. Blundt’s is a pretty new program, from what I understand. Let’s walk out there and I’ll introduce you.”

The introductions go quickly, and Puck soon finds himself talking to the guy from Blundt and the guy from Tech, though the former dominates the conversation.

“So there’s a pretty big difference between the ‘09 stats and the ‘10 stats,” the Blundt recruiter, Mr. Deansch says. “I know there was a coaching change, but it’s hard to ignore the ‘09 stats entirely.”

“I think the ‘10 stats sort of speak to the caliber of coach we now have, though,” Puck argues, smile plastered on his face. “There wasn’t a noticeable change in our roster between ‘09 and ‘10, so the major difference that you’re looking at really is Coach Beiste. She’s done a great job, frankly.”

“I have concerns about stats that indicate players who have a hard time taking initiative, stepping into that leadership role, as it were,” Mr. Deansch counters. “Nobody knows more than me how coaching makes a difference, but need to see some indication of a standout player, one who can keep the team together even if there are...gaps in coaching.”

“There’s a big difference between gaps in coaching and almost utter lack of coaching, though.” Puck takes a deep breath. “I think you’ll also see that the changes in the roster between years did come from a large group of second-string seniors that dominated the locker room and the field, but had little interest in improving our game.”

Mr. Deansch nods. “Fair enough. What I’ve heard about Hudson is impressive, so I’ll take all that into account. So tell me, son. Why aren’t _you_ out on the field today?”

Puck gestures to his eye. “Took a good hit to the ribs, too. Doctor said it’d be best if I sat out this week.”

“Doctors,” Mr. Deansch snorts. “Don’t they know men are supposed to be tough?” He pats Puck on the back with a conspiratorial wink.

“Uh, well,” Puck laughs, a little nervously. “Since I like seeing out of both eyes, I thought I’d listen this time.”

Mr. Deansch chuckles. “Well, I guess that’s a good enough reason. What’s with the shirts? ‘Glocks?’ I saw a couple girls out there wearing them, too.”

Puck smiles, though he can’t imagine what this guy will say about them. “Yeah, some of our friends had them made for all of us in glee club. Four of us are on the team, too, but everyone comes out to cheer us on.”

“Glee club? Like singing and dancing?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s an...interesting mix with football,” Mr. Deansch says, pursing his lips a little. “I’d think it’s a pretty big time commitment, right? Do you, uh, ‘Glocks’ manage to balance practice and your little singing club pretty well?”

“It’s a considerable commitment before competitions, yes,” Puck says, a little coolly. “But football season ends before the two biggest competitions.” Mr. Deansch just nods.

“So, you’ve played with Hudson for four years?”

“In high school, yes. Finn & I played middle school football together, too.”

“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about his consistency as a player?” Mr. Deansch asks.

“Okay.” Puck shrugs. “Why don’t we go find a seat?” He turns to the guy from Tech. “Since I’m not playing today, we should have plenty of time during the game.” When they both nod, he leads them up the stairs and over to where the rest of the glee club is ensconced, Artie carefully wedged against the wall. “Hey, guys, this is Mr. Deansch from Blundt University, and Mr–sorry, Mr. Stevens, right? From Georgia Tech.” Puck sits down next to Kurt and takes the warm cup of coffee gratefully, smiling at Kurt before turning back to the two men. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Mr. Deansch seems to look at Kurt a little too long, his eyes narrowing slightly before his face becomes neutral again. He glaces back over at Puck and back at Kurt, before looking back to Puck and addressing another question to him, and very pointedly _only_ to him, “Has Hudson ever indicated any particular academic goals for himself?”

“Well, I know he doesn’t have anything set in stone as far as specific major,” Puck replies, then turns towards Kurt. “Hey, Finn mention anything to you about what he wants to study?” He turns back to Mr. Deansch with a somewhat strained smile. “This is Finn’s brother, Kurt.”

“Oh,” Mr. Deansch responds. “Uh, nice to meet you, Kurt.” He seems to shift uncomfortable on the bleachers.

Kurt’s smile is like ice, and Puck takes a sip of his Americano to avoid making any sort of face or comment. “I know Finn has mentioned music in passing. I personally think he’d make an excellent teacher, but I don’t know if that’s occurred to him yet.”

Mr. Deansch nods a little absently, only half listening to Kurt. His gaze is directed down to the bleacher railing, where Finn has just sauntered up to give Rachel a pre-game peck on the lips. She leans way over the railing, though even on the metal steps, she’s still barely at eye level with Finn. As she turns to take her seat, she gives Puck and Kurt a little wave.

“Who is that girl?” Mr. Deansch asks. “Hudson’s ladyfriend?”

“That’s Rachel, and yes, she’s Finn’s girlfriend.” Puck’s having a hard time keeping his temper, but the game hasn’t even started yet.

“She’s another one of your glee students?”

“Yeah, she’s one of our best performers,” Puck has to acknowledge, even though he notices Kurt and Mercedes exchange a glance.

“I notice she has Hudson’s number on the back of her shirt. Is he one of the ‘Glocks’ you were talking about?” Mr. Deansch looks concerned.

Puck nods and points to the field. “Six and twenty-eight, too. Finn’s one of our captains, though.”

“That’s a big commitment to make in two different directions,” Mr. Deansch muses. “Blundt typically discourages our athletes from taking on time-consuming extracurricular activities outside of football.”

Puck raises his eyebrows a little, because it’s not like he hadn’t already had the idea that this place maybe wasn’t the best fit for Finn. “What do you think, Kurt? You think Finn would feel comfortable with that?”

Kurt purses his lips. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. He’d probably make the argument that he does pretty well balancing all his commitments now, which he does.”

“Well, I think I’m in a better position to be the judge of that than a couple of musical high school kids, no offense,” Mr. Deansch says. “You mention _all_ his commitments. Just how many does this kid have?”

“Well, school, of course,” Puck begins. “And he works, what, ten or fifteen hours?” Kurt nods. “Plus football, and glee club, and PFLAG.”

“PFLAG? The homosexual club? Is he a homosexual?”

“No,” Kurt says crisply. “But his brother is.”

“Well, I guess that can’t be helped,” Mr. Deansch says. “And I suppose it’s...nice of him to appear so supportive.”

Puck can feel his jaw clench, and he doesn’t need to look at Kurt to know what Kurt’s face probably looks like. “I think we’re done here,” he grinds out after a minute. “K, I’ll be back. Mr. Deansch, if you would come with me.”

Mr. Deansch blusters and mutters something about how he doesn’t understand what people are thinking these days, before standing and following Puck. Puck leads him down the stairs and to a bench at the sidelines, down from where the rest of the team is. “Why don’t you just sit here,” he says without looking at the man. “I’m sure Coach Beiste will chat with you before you go.”

Puck walks back past Coach Beiste and tilts his head towards Mr. Deansch. “Problem?” she asks quietly.

“Let’s just say he’d like Johannson’s attitude.”

She just nods. “Got it. All right, I’ll take care of it at halftime.”

“Thanks, Coach.” Puck climbs back up into the bleachers and settles back beside Kurt, offering him a small smile, which Kurt tentatively returns. Puck picks up his coffee and turns to Mr. Stevens. “I’m sorry about that.”

“No worries,” Mr. Stevens assures him. “I’d heard rumors about Mr. Deansch before, actually. You handled him quite well.”

“Ah, thanks.” Puck nods. “So, Karofsky.”

“Yes. As you probably know, we are looking for a certain type of student-athlete at Tech. David Karofsky cropped up as a possibility, someone that could handle the rigors of Tech both athletically and academically.”

Puck nods. “I don’t know too much about his academic record, to be honest, just that he’s in the same dual-enrollment math class I am, which is calc-based stats.”

Mr. Stevens nods, looking pleased. “That’s good to hear. Now, David only joined the team last year, as a junior, correct?”

Puck nods. “Yes.”

“And how’d that go? Any problem integrating into the team?”

“No, not really.” And it’s not a lie; Karofsky’d fit right in with _most_ of the team. Plus, he’s been doing better and part of Puck thinks Karofsky would have an easier time some place like Atlanta than at a lot of schools.

“Good to hear, good to hear,” Mr. Stevens nods. “I’m sure you’ve heard about our recent appeal with the NCAA, but none of that affects playing going forward.” Puck nods. “You’re not playing in college?”

Puck shakes his head. “No. Coach says I probably could, but I think I’ll go a different direction.”

After the game ends, Mr. Stevens turns to Puck. “Mind introducing me?”

“Sure. One sec.” Puck turns to Kurt. “Meet you at the Nav?”

Kurt nods. “Not sure what everyone’s doing.”

“Kay.” Puck resists the impulse to kiss Kurt, and shoves his hands into his pockets instead. Even if he was out to everyone, it wouldn’t be the smartest plan to kiss Kurt on the bleachers at a McKinley football game. He turns back to Mr. Stevens and nods, and they head down the stairs.

“Yo! Karofsky!” Puck yells out, and Karofsky stops and turns towards him, then nods and makes his way over. “Mr. Stevens, David Karofsky. Karofsky, Mr. Stevens with Georgia Tech.” Puck claps Karofsky on the shoulder. “Good game, dude.” He nods at Mr. Stevens. “Nice talking with you.”

“The same. Thank you, Mr. Puckerman.”

“No problem. Later, dude,” he addresses Karofsky, and then ambles off towards the parking lot, greeting some of his teammates along the way. He reaches the Nav before anyone else, and uses the code to get inside, absently wishing he’d thought to grab the keys off Kurt so he could turn on the heater. No sooner does he finish the thought than Kurt opens the door and does just that. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Kurt grins at him for a minute before the grin fades. “Oh dear god that man was an absolute asshole.”

“Ugh,” Puck nods. “I know.” He shifts in the seat, angling towards Kurt. “You were awesome, though.” He reaches across the console and wraps his fingers through Kurt’s. “Wonder what Beiste said to him.”

“Nothing good, since he was walking to the parking lot in an awful hurry during halftime,” Kurt smirks.

After a few, Finn comes sprinting up to the Nav, gear bag thrown over his shoulder. “Catch a ride with you guys?”

“To where?” Kurt asks, amused.

“Anywhere but here?” Finn looks at Puck and Kurt appraisingly for a moment. “Well, scratch that. Almost anywhere. Anywhere, you know, where everybody’s gonna keep all their everything on.”

Puck rolls his eyes and smirks. “I don’t think that’s a location that goes into the GPS, dude.”

“Lima Bean? I think some of the other guys were headed there,” Finn offers. “I mean, I know, coffee’s not exactly exciting for _some_ people among us...named Puck.”

“At least I don’t have to make it. Just don’t tell my manager,” Puck grins.

“That works.” Kurt shrugs. “No Rachel?”

“Naw, she thinks she might be getting a sore throat from the cold weather,” Finn says, with a little smile. “I think it could be from all the screaming.”

“She’s very enthusiastic,” Puck nods. “Is that why you guys make her sit on the end?”

“Yes,” Kurt grins. “Finn, you definitely have the _loudest_ cheering section.”

Puck smirks, catching Kurt’s eye, but doesn’t say anything.

“What can I say?” Finn grins. “She’s really into football.”

“No, Finn,” Kurt corrects him. “She’s really into _you_.”

“Yeah, she can’t remember the difference between a touchdown and a field goal, dude.”

“I seem to remember _some_ brother of mine ‘auditioning for the role of kicker,’” Finn smirks.

“And I won the role, didn’t I?” Kurt smiles sweetly.

“If they gave Oscars for kicker, you’d totally have won one, dude,” Finn agrees. “Best male kicker in a kicking role.”

“I am quite limber,” Kurt muses.

“Aw, man, _really_?!” Finn makes a face. “You’re awful.”

“Oops.” Kurt pinks a little. “I didn’t _actually_ mean it that way, but....” Puck just smirks.

“Sorry. I’m used to you two meaning it that way.”

“Your face provides such amusement, dude.”

“Glad to help, dude.” Finn grins at Puck. “So what happened to that recruiter, anyway? Beiste mentioned he was there and I saw him on the sideline for a while, but then, bam, gone by the time the game ended.”

Puck exchanges a glance with Kurt. “The short answer is, he was a complete asshole.”

“I was hoping it wasn’t my game, so that’s good, at least. What’s the long answer?”

“Where do I start?” Puck groans. “He was being an ass about the difference between Tanaka and Beiste, and then something about doctors, and glee club, and...” he trails off, and Kurt squeezes his hand.

“And?” Finn asks. “Kurt? Can you fill in some blanks?”

“As impressed as the Wisconsin guy was by your extracurriculars, this guy was equally unimpressed. If not more so.”

Finn tilts his head and scrunches up his face for a moment, thinking it over, then nods. “You know what? If that’s who’s gonna represent their school, fuck ‘em. Couldn’t offer me enough money to go there.”

“I don’t think they wanted anything more than an athlete, anyway,” Puck snorts. “The guy was damn dismissive about academics, too.”

“And I _am_ known for my stunning academics,” Finn quips. “It’s amazing I’m not getting offers from, like, MIT or Harvard.”

“You’re too good for their teams,” Kurt grins. “They can’t afford you.”

“It’s true. I’m pretty much made of awesomeness.”

“Also ego,” Puck snorts. “Who’d you say was headed here?” He gestures to the packed lot of the Lima Bean.

“Uh, Mike and Tina and Sam, probably Mercedes,” Finn says.

“Aww, you’ll be the only one without a date,” Puck grins.

“As far as they know, we’re all dateless, dude,” Finn points out, “so be smug for the five minutes it’ll take to get there. Laugh it up.”

“Hey, what they think isn’t really what I’m concerned about,” Puck shrugs. “I know how to keep my hands in my pockets,” he adds wryly.

“I’m just glad it’s not gonna be just me in the middle of all the macking couples,” Finn sighs. “I mean, sucks for you guys and all, but I’m sort of relieved. Mike and Tina are just...whoa.”

Kurt raises one eyebrow and exchanges a grin with Puck, and Puck nods. Yeah, Finn probably would be a little surprised to see them in Dayton. “I think it’s sweet,” Kurt says after a moment.

“Mike and Tina?” Finn asks. “Really? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I sometimes wish Rachel shared Tina’s, uh...”

“Enthusiasm?” Puck supplies.

“Sure. I mean, I was gonna say ‘need to be all over her boyfriend’s lap’ but enthusiasm will do,” Finn grins.

“They’re very happy,” Kurt shrugs. “Why shouldn’t she be? You did notice that on Monday, right? When they each were talking about colleges?”

“Uh, no, not really.”

“Dude, Mike’s jonesing to go to that place in Boston, and all of Tina’s schools were like, in or near Boston, or at least in New England.”

“You guys are both going to New York,” Finn points out. “I mean, I guess some couples want to stay together after school. Go to the same city. Some of them. Not all of them.” Finn sort of trails off and looks out the window. “It’s great if that’s, you know, if they’re that kind of couple. That’s great.”

Kurt gnaws on his lower lip a little and exchanges a glance with Puck, who just shrugs. “So, uh, any other schools supposed to come check you out?” Kurt finally says, a little too brightly.

“Coach said Michigan State, maybe, but I think that’s kind of a longshot. Maybe OSU, but,” Finn shrugs. “There’s _that_ whole thing.”

“What whole thing?” Kurt looks confused, even as Puck’s nodding his agreement.

"NCAA," Finn says. "There's a whole thing."

“What kind of thing?” Kurt asks. “Are they in trouble?”

"Unethical conduct, something to do with selling merchandise, maybe? I’m not totally sure, honestly,” Finn confesses. “I just know there’s no post-season play, and I just wanna play, you know?”

Kurt nods, making a strange face. “The coach had to resign or something, I think,” Puck adds, “over the summer or whatever.”

“Anyway, OSU might be off the table,” Finn says, as though that were explanation enough.

Kurt pulls into the parking lot then, maneuver the Nav into a parking space and then sitting there with the engine on. “It’s cold,” he complains.

“Maybe if you had some body fat...”

Kurt just sniffs. “My metabolism is perfect.”

“You’re gonna be awfully cold in New York, is all I’m saying,” Finn mumbles.

“That’s what scarves are for. Also gloves. And coats.” Kurt frowns a little. “All of the above.”

“Multiples of them. Coats. Lots of gloves. One of those things that goes on old women’s heads, the whatchacall’ems.” Finn pantomimes tying some sort of headdress over his head. “You know, like in ‘Fiddler on the Roof.’”

“What?!?” Kurt screeches.

“It’s called a babushka, dude.”

“See?” Finn points at Puck. “He knows exactly what I’m talking about.”

Puck puts his hands up in front of up. “Whoa, I’m just telling you what it’s called.”

“Can we go in now, Yente?”

“Sure. The question you need to ask yourself, Finn, is how you are getting home.” Kurt raises his eyebrows as he shuts off the engine and opens the door.

“I’ll buy you the prettiest babushka I can find for Christmas, dude,” Finn promises. “To match the chaps, right?”

“Oh, right, because those will keep me warm!”

“What _are_ you two talking about?”

“Hey, butt-less chaps go with everything, dude,” Finn exclaims.

“Kinky,” Puck shrugs, tone approving. Finn makes a face and crosses his eyes at Puck. “You brought it up, man.”

“Only because that’s what Kurt wanted for his birthday,” Finn says, “but I couldn’t afford them, so I gave him a raincheck for Christmas.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “I’m still getting you that pink Speedo.”

“Hey, I’ve been working out. I could probably rock that,” Finn insists. “Oh, and it’ll give me something to wear to Pride next year.”

“My eyes,” Puck groans. “You two have problems, you know that?” He sticks his hands in his pockets and starts walking towards the door.

“Yup. It’s hereditary,” Finn agrees. “By marriage.”

Puck snorts, and Kurt giggles. “Sure, brother dearest,” Kurt says finally, pulling open the door. “Whatever you say.”

It does end up being three couples and Finn, even if only three of them are aware that there’s a third couple. Sam and Mike talk about the recruiter from Tulane, and Puck tells them an abbreviated version of the tale of the douchebag from Blundt University. After they leave the Lima Bean and drop Finn back at the school to get his truck, Kurt drives slowly back towards Puck’s apartment and parks, climbing out. “I’ll walk you up,” he says with a smile, and they climb the stairs slowly.

As they stand in front of the door, Puck reaches up to cup Kurt’s face, and he pulls Kurt towards him. He’s mid-kiss when it hits him, and he pulls back with a grin. “You didn’t shave this morning.”

Kurt just returns the grin. “I thought you might like that.” He tilts his head into Puck’s hand. “Not planning to in the morning.” He kisses Puck softly. “Or Sunday morning, either,” he adds, and his smile is just a little too innocent.

Puck exhales and closes his eyes for a moment. “Damn. So I need to find something for Mom and Hannah to do Sunday afternoon and evening?” he asks hopefully.

“Might be a good idea,” Kurt nods, still smiling. “Pleasant dreams, baby.”

“Yeah, you too.” Puck kisses the tip of Kurt’s nose. “Be good.”

“I’m always good.”

 

Puck’s body helpfully wakes him up by seven on Saturday morning, and when he steps back into his room after showering, his phone chimes at him with a text message.

 _You up?_

 _Yeah. Stupid body clock._

 _Want to get out of here? We can get coffee here and breakfast in Troy or something_

 _Yes pls_

 _See you in ten xx_  
Puck grins and pulls on his clothes in a hurry, writing a quick note for his mom and grabbing his jacket before heading downstairs. He times it perfectly somehow, pushing the door open as Kurt pulls up. “‘Morning, blue eyes.”

“A good one, now,” Kurt smiles, and there’s no one out, which is probably why Kurt leans across the console and initiates a deep kiss. “Ready to get out of this town? At least for the day,” he amends.

“Fuck, yes.” Puck settles into his seat. “Hey, today’s the first of October. We made it through September.”

“One month down, eight to go. Coffee?”

“Please.” Puck stifles a yawn.

Kurt drives over to Starbucks and parks. “I’ll go in, since I don’t think you want to go in there on your day off.”

Puck shakes his head. “Not really.”

Kurt returns relatively quickly with their drinks. “Your manager said hello.”

“Ah.” Puck just holds his cup between his hands. “She calls you ‘my boy.’”

“Really?” Kurt sounds amused. “Close enough.”

“Yeah.” Puck grins. “‘Your boy is here,’ and ‘Your boy’s early today,’” he adds. “The first time I was a little surprised but.” He shrugs.

Kurt steers them onto the interstate with a pleased little grin on his face. “There are much worse titles to be given.”

Puck smiles and angles his body towards Kurt. “I can think of a few that sound even better,” he confesses.

“Oh? Like what?” Kurt takes a sip of coffee and his dimple peeks out from behind the cup.

“Hmm. My beautiful boy. Boyfriend.” Puck shrugs. “Partner.” He’s been toying with that word in his mind for a little while, trying it out, feeling it’s something that maybe you have to earn, but it sounds right this morning.

“I like those,” Kurt says softly. He puts his cup down and laces his fingers with Puck’s, squeezing gently.

Today is definitely one of those days where he feels older than he really is. Somewhat in a bad way, but surprisingly, mostly in a good way. They know they’re leaving Lima and going to New York–if Puck can get into Hunter, there’s no way Kurt won’t get his own letter within a week or two. Puck’s even pretty proud of himself for how he handled the recruiter the night before, given all the things he was spouting off. And while, yeah, they’re getting out of Lima for the day just to _get out of Lima_ , they’re also going to look at shit for an apartment. _Their_ apartment, which is pretty damn grown up and old. Even if it’s almost a year away, the whole idea feels good and right.

Puck smiles to himself. Finn was right, sort of–Kurt _is_ going to get cold in New York City, walking and riding the subway and cuddling up on a couch that Puck pictures perched on a floor, surrounded by brick walls and tall shelves. They’re going to need lots of blankets and throws and Kurt’s going to need plenty of sweaters in addition to the gloves and scarfs he already mentioned.

“What are you thinking?” Kurt’s voice breaks the calm silence.

“You. New York.” He grins. “You in New York. Your brother was right, you are gonna get cold.”

“Probably,” Kurt concedes. “I do tend to feel colder than most people.”

“We’ll get lots of blankets and stuff. And you can get thick socks.”

Kurt laughs. “That might work.” He pulls off the interstate, already to Troy. “What do you want to eat?”

Puck scans the visible signs and shrugs. “Waffle House?”

“Sure.”

Puck walks around the back of the Nav and slides his arm around Kurt almost defiantly. They aren’t that far out of Lima, and Troy’s not that big, so there’s really just as much a chance of someone saying something to them there as at home. Puck just doesn’t care, and judging by the way Kurt leans into him and puts his own arm around Puck, Kurt doesn’t particularly care either.

“Looking good, Puckerman,” Kurt teases, and Puck grins.

“Hey, I can clean up nice.”

“Yes, you can.” Kurt smiles, eyes scanning him. “And you do.”

“I’d say the same, but you’re pretty much always cleaned up nice.” Puck runs his hand softly over Kurt’s cheek as they sit down at the counter. “And, well. No complaints about this.”

Kurt’s dimples flash and he leans into Puck’s hand. “No, I didn’t think there would be.”

It’s another hour to Ikea after they finish eating, but the store isn’t too crowded as they make their way inside, arms twined around each other. Some–a lot, really–of the furniture is way too big for the small space they’re going to find themselves in, but there are a few sample spaces set up, and it’s easy to agree that they’re going to want to loft the bed.

“I think we don’t need that much space for a kitchen, though,” Puck says, frowning, as he looks around one of them.

“No?”

“I already eat breakfast at Starbucks six days a week, we’ll probably grab lunch between classes, and there are how many places to get take-out?”

“Oh.” Kurt purses his lips. “Good point.”

One of the Ikea employees, who apparently has nothing better to do, approaches them. “Where are you getting an apartment?”

“Oh, New York City, next year,” Puck answers, his arm tightening a little around Kurt.

“Students?” At their nod, she continues. “Trader Joe’s for food, that’s what I live on.” She smiles. “Are you from Cincinnati?”

“Lima,” Kurt responds for them this time.

“There’s a Trader Joe’s about twenty minutes from here, you should check it out, give out an idea of what it’s like.” She grins and then moves away. “Have fun.”

“Interesting,” Kurt raises his eyebrow, and Puck moves over to a strange cabinet hanging on the wall, that looks sort of like the old breadbox his mom had when he was little.

“We should get a couple of these,” he says, after playing with it for a moment. “Hang ‘em on the wall near the bed.”

Kurt frowns. “Why?”

“Look,” Puck points out. “No space on the side, and there’s not exactly a bedside table up that high.” He waits for a moment and grins, “You know. Things we might need in bed.”

“Oh. Ohhh,” Kurt blushes a little and giggles, but nods, and wraps his arms around Puck from behind. “Good point.”

“Kurt?” they hear from directly behind them. “It _is_ you!”

Kurt wheels around, one arm staying around Puck, and Puck slides his own arm around Kurt, looking at the owner of the voice quizzically. Kurt sighs a little beside him, and then smiles genially. “Trey. Hello.”

Trey is flushed and a little sweaty, and appears to be somewhat out of breath, as though he had hurried over to them. He’s dressed meticulously in a button-down shirt and khaki pants, and his hair is very carefully combed. Puck immediately pegs him as one of Kurt’s friends from Dalton. “Hi! Oh, wow, it is _so_ funny to run into you here!”

“Yes, we’re both a bit far away from home,” Kurt nods, and Puck can feel his arm tighten a little around Puck’s waist.

“So, you’re shopping for furniture?” Trey asks, looking back and forth between Kurt and Puck, but not asking any questions about Puck’s identity. “That’s great! For home or?” He makes a little gesture to suggest Kurt fill in the blank.

“Next year,” and Kurt’s lips quirk upward a little as he speaks. Puck grins a little himself, because yeah, it does make it all seem so fucking _real_. “New York.”

“Wow! That’s just, wow,” Trey says, cutting his eyes to Puck a few times. “Where are you going? NYU or?”

Kurt shakes his head. “I’m hoping to get into Marymount Manhattan’s theatre program. Puck’s looking at Mannes, but if nothing else, we can both go to Hunter.”

Trey nods a little too vigorously. “Well, that’s certainly very exciting for the both of you! Listen, I’m supposed to meet my mother at the cafe shortly. Would you, the two of you of course, like to join us? We could catch up a little more.”

“No, thanks,” Puck breaks in with a smile. “More to look at.”

“Oh, well, that’s too bad, then,” Trey says, with a polite little smile. “I’m sure we’ll see each other at Invitationals next week. Maybe we’ll get a chance to catch up then?”

“Sure,” Kurt nods, but Puck knows that tone, which means that “sure” is actually “no, probably not,” but he smiles, all friendly, and Puck does his best to look friendly as well until the dude is out of sight.

“Warbler?”

“Yes,” Kurt confirms with a nod. “He’s a little... overexcitable. As you probably noticed.”

“Hope you don’t mind me running him off,” Puck quirks an eyebrow, “but you didn’t seem too thrilled.”

Kurt shakes his head. “Trey’s nice enough, just. A little grating at times. And I don’t really want to spend the day with anyone either of us knows.”

“No,” Puck agrees, as they continue their winding circuit through the store. “So, Marymount’s on the Upper East Side, like Hunter.”

“Yes.” Kurt purses his lips and looks almost guilty for a moment. “So it’s probably awful of me, but part of the reason I really want you to get into Mannes is that I'd rather live on the Upper West Side than the Upper East Side.”

Puck laughs. “As long as it’s not the _only_ reason. I think I like Upper West Side better, too, though.”

“Oh, good.” Kurt grins, and they pause to look at a few things from time to time.

“You know, you mentioned going to Chicago sometime this year,” Puck says after a few more stops. “We should do that. Over winter break."

"New Years? Between Christmas and New Years?”

"Sure. I have no idea when Hanukkah is, and Mom’ll flip if I miss the first night or two, but other than that.” Puck shrugs. “Just… a few days. Just us."

"My dad'll love that," Kurt grins.

"Hey, we're eighteen. They can't exactly _stop_ us."

"True." Kurt slides his fingers through Puck’s and tugs him towards another one of the sample room things. “And we’re not asking them to pay for it, either.”

“Yeah. Just to let us get out of Ohio for a little bit.”

“A breather.”

“Yes.” Puck squeezes his hand and looks around this sample room. “Blue eyes, how _are_ you going to handle having less closet space?”

Kurt whimpers a little. “I don’t know. You’ll have to help me through it.”

Puck laughs and pulls Kurt close, kissing his temple. “Sure thing.” He drops his voice to a whisper. “I’ll just keep you naked as much as possible.”

Kurt’s face turns a violent shade of red, and he half buries it against Puck’s neck, but he doesn’t exactly protest. Puck chuckles and tugs him farther along the path.

By the time they reach the cafe and order lunch, Trey and his mother are, thankfully, long gone, and they each decide on a plate of meatballs and a slice of cake before sitting down.

“So at least the stuff isn’t too expensive,” Kurt says with a thoughtful expression. “All the furniture, I guess we’ll want to wait until we get there. I don’t know about the other stuff, the less bulky stuff.”

“Yeah, I don’t know either.” Puck shrugs. “Seems like we’ll need more stuff than we manage to fit in one load, however we do it, though.”

“True. I guess we could always just rent a Uhaul or something and drive into the city with everything at once.”

“Now that sounds like an adventure,” Puck laughs. “C’mon, picture that.” He waits for just a second or two before Kurt does start to giggle.

“Okay, fair point,” Kurt concedes, a smile still on his face.

The hard thing about the bottom floor is that it would be really easy to just _buy_ things, some of the things that they know they’ll need, spread out the cost even more. Puck’s not sure how his mom or Kurt’s dad would react to either of them bringing things home, though, and stacking them in a corner of the room or whatever, because it’s only October.

They head towards the exit without purchasing anything, but with a lot of thoughts and a lot of notes in the app that does, indeed, exist for shopping at Ikea. “Cinnamon bun?”

“Sure.”

The cinnamon buns are nearly perfect, and Puck thinks that they should find an excuse to go to Ikea often, for $1 cinnamon buns. Kurt laughs and they buy four of the six-packs, two of them for glee club on Monday, even though they’re not sure how they’ll explain them, even if it’s just one of them that takes them in.

“Should we check out that grocery store that woman mentioned?”

Kurt shrugs as they ride down to the parking deck. “Sure. We’ll see what we find, anyway.”

It’s apparent why the girl recommended it, as it’s full of almost-ready-to-eat and ready-to-eat food, plus a few staples. A lot of frozen meals but Kurt claims it looks healthier than most things and the prices aren’t too bad, so yeah, maybe that will work. Down the road is a mall, and since it’s almost dinnertime, Puck suggests they go out to dinner.

“Well, obviously, since we’re not at home.”

“No, I mean, like, I dunno. Someplace nice.”

“Okay.” Kurt smiles. “Let’s go see what we can find.”

They settle on Maggiano’s, but when Kurt hears the wait time, he shakes his head. “We should find somewhere else, Puck, you’ve got to work in the morning and it’s two hours to get home.”

“Everywhere’s gonna be busy, blue eyes. It’s a Saturday night. S’fine.” Puck kisses Kurt softly. “I’m taking my boyfriend out for a nice dinner, ‘cause I said so.”

“If you’re sure,” Kurt worries a little more, but he’s smiling, pressed tight against Puck’s side, and Puck just runs his hand lightly over Kurt’s back, wishing more than anything that things were different, so he could do this as much as possible.

It does take forever to get seated, but the food is good, and they’re squeezed into a tiny booth with high sides. They both get pasta with various seafood, swapping bites, and have tiramisu for dessert before leaving the restaurant, satiated.

“Drive us home, baby?” Kurt asks, leaning against Puck.

“Sure.” Puck tugs Kurt in front of him and rests his hand on Kurt’s face before kissing him slowly, Kurt’s tongue demanding a deepening of the kiss after a moment, and they pull apart after a long moment with smiles on their faces.

The ride home is dark and relatively quiet, music playing softly. “S’good day,” Kurt says after awhile. “Really good.”

“Yeah, it was,” Puck agrees. “We deserved it, K.”

“Yes, we did,” Kurt agrees. “We really did.”

Kurt’s almost asleep when Puck parks in front of his building, and Puck makes him promise to call him or text when he gets home, just in case. Kurt nods and smiles. “Love you. Be good.”

“Love you too. And I’m always good.”

Puck’s lying in bed, almost asleep, when his phone buzzes. _Home safe. Sweet dreams, baby. xx_

He grins into the darkness and replies. _Always if they’re about u xx_

 

Which isn’t to say that waking up the next morning doesn’t suck, because it does, but Puck still thinks the day before was totally worth it. He leaves two of the cinnamon buns out for his mom and his sister, and eats another one as he walks to work. Puck yawns through most of the morning, his coffee not even making much of a difference, and he’s profoundly grateful for the sight that greets him when he heads outside to walk home.

Kurt, and the Nav.

“Oh, you don’t know how happy I am to see you,” Puck grins and climbs in. “For more than one reason, I have to confess.”

“I thought you might be,” Kurt grins. “We were out pretty late.”

“Totally worth it.”

“You’re only saying that because of the tiramisu,” Kurt teases, and Puck just laughs. “Are you still behind?”

“Not behind, just stuff for tomorrow, and Tuesday.”

Kurt nods. “Same. Plus PFLAG on Tuesday.”

“Oh, hey, yeah.” Puck smirks a little. “I got a few things to say on Tuesday. A challenge, if you will. Since Beiste is supposed to be there, and Ms. P is already there, and Finn’ll probably drag Schue again.”

“Okay,” Kurt nods. “Good, I don’t have to think of anything.” He grins. The stubble covering his face is even thicker, and Puck can’t help but wonder what it would look like if Kurt let it keep growing, and says so.

“Mmm. I don’t know,” Kurt acknowledges. “Maybe we’ll find out someday.” He smiles, slow and soft, and Puck just squeezes his hand as he returns the smile.

They spend most of the afternoon working on various assignments before Rina comes into Puck’s room and announces that she needs to take Hannah to Wal-Mart for some supplies for a project later in the week, and if it’s okay with them, she and Hannah are going to have a little mother-daughter dinner. Puck can’t help but wonder if his mom is that cool or that clueless, and decides it’s probably a combination of both.

Puck manages to focus on his schoolwork for a little longer before he closes his book with a little sigh and reaches for Kurt. Kurt pushes his own book away and crawls up the bed willingly, a little smile on his lips.

“I have a little proposition for you,” Kurt begins, a little hint of wickedness in said smile.

“Oh?” Puck lies back, shifting until the two of them are curled towards each other, legs tangled.

“If you don’t like the idea, I won’t be offended,” he adds, and Puck knits his eyebrows together, trying to imagine what Kurt could be suggesting. “I just thought,” Kurt says slowly, picking up Puck’s hand and running it along his cheek, “since I have to shave before tomorrow, maybe you’d,” Kurt’s gaze darts away, and he’s blushing a little. “Want to. Do the honors?”

Puck can hear his breathing get a little louder, a tiny hitch in it. “Ohh. Really?”

“Really,” Kurt nods, his eyes still cast down a bit.

“That’s... really fucking hot, K.”

Kurt’s eyes flick upward at that, meeting Puck’s again at last. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Puck runs his tongue over his lips, moistening them. “But, uh. First, can you...” he trails off for a moment, his fingers running over Kurt’s face lightly. “Just, uh.” He can feel his jeans getting tighter, and before he can finish his sentence, Kurt’s hand is resting on his waistband.

“Absolutely,” Kurt grins. He slides the zipper down on Puck’s jeans and slowly undoes the button, sliding his hand inside.

“If you’ll let me return the favor,” Puck amends with a little smirk, and Kurt stands quickly.

“In that case...” They both shed their clothes and lie back on the bed. Puck barely parts his legs before Kurt starts dragging his cheek up Puck’s inner thigh, and Puck bites his lip hard.

He moves his own face into the soft dark curls clustered at the base of Kurt’s erection, slowly lapping at the firm skin as Kurt licks a stripe up Puck’s cock. Puck wraps his tongue around Kurt, working his way upwards until he’s got his tongue firmly around the head, and then he slips it away, causing Kurt to whimper a little from where he has his own lips pursed at the tip of Puck’s erection. Puck grins and takes as much of Kurt into his mouth as he can, bring his hands up to tease at Kurt’s balls and circle around the base.

The motion is met with a corresponding one by Kurt, and Puck thinks maybe it’s wrong to be so incredibly turned on by something as simple as the way Kurt’s face feels after a couple of days without shaving, but _damn_. The way it scrapes at his skin just a bit makes him thrust forward involuntarily.

Kurt’s hips mirror his movement, and they fall quickly into an easy rhythm, mouths sliding wetly up and down, and Puck knows that he’s not going to last long, not with Kurt’s cock heavy in his mouth, nose buried in Kurt’s curls while his own cock is enveloped in Kurt’s lips, soft scratchiness instead of smooth skin against his own skin.

When Kurt hums softly around Puck’s erection, he falls apart, jerking his hips sharply twice before starting to come, and he slides his mouth as far down as he can on Kurt, squeezing his balls lightly and running his fingers lightly over the base. He can feel Kurt gasp a little, and within moments, Kurt’s spilling into him, shuddering over the edge. When Kurt is still, Puck slowly pulls away, pushing himself up as Kurt curls around him and then into his lap.

“Mmm,” Kurt hums, and Puck combs his fingers through Kurt’s hair for a long time, his other hand’s fingers twined with Kurt’s, until Kurt shivers a little, and Puck smiles.

“Up, blue eyes. You’re getting cold.”

Kurt wrinkles his nose but sits up before pulling his pants back on. Puck follows suit, and then Kurt reaches into his bag for a smaller bag, placing it in Puck’s left hand before tugging on Puck’s right and leading them into the bathroom.

Kurt perches on the sink, and Puck kisses him roughly as he sets down the bag and reaches out for a washcloth. “So, um.” Kurt says as they break apart, his cheeks flushed. “My shaving cream has to sit for about three minutes.”

“Kay.” Puck fumbles in the bag until he finds the container, and he unscrews the lid before dipping his fingers into it. “Just... rub it in?”

Kurt nods, and Puck spreads it carefully, his other hand resting on Kurt’s hip, just above his waistband. He gets a little more out of the container before he’s satisfied, pressing his lips to Kurt’s forehead before washing the slight remainder off his fingers. “Now we wait,” Kurt whispers, and Puck nods, both hands now on Kurt’s shoulders, rubbing them gently.

Eventually, Kurt nods somewhat decisively, and Puck turns on the water and rifles through the bag again, finding Kurt’s razor. He puts his hand on the back of Kurt’s head, and Kurt’s eyes close as he leans into the touch, and it hits Puck just how much Kurt _trusts_ him. He falters for just a second, taking a deep breath, and then slowly pulls the razor down the first patch of skin. He rinses it off and shakes it, remembering how he stumbled through shaving that first summer, how he and Finn had finally resorted to watching YouTube videos to figure it out, and he presses a soft kiss on the freshly exposed skin as he works his way down Kurt’s cheek, then the opposite cheek, before carefully finishing.

Puck wets the washcloth that he’d grabbed, carefully rinsing Kurt’s face before placing his lips over Kurt’s. Kurt’s lips part almost automatically, his tongue darting out, and as Puck responds, Kurt’s hand comes up to the back of Puck’s head, mirroring Puck’s position. Their tongues slide together, lips moving together, and Puck drops the washcloth into the sink before wrapping that arm around Kurt’s waist and pulling him close, Puck’s body nestled between the ‘v’ of Kurt’s legs.

Slowly, they separate and Puck holds Kurt’s gaze as he dries Kurt’s razor and drops it back into the bag. “Moisturizer,” Kurt says after a moment, and Puck manages to find that tub, too, rubbing it lightly into Kurt’s cheeks and chin while Kurt looks like he could start to purr at any moment.

Kurt slides down from the sink and presses a kiss to the corner of Puck’s lips, then places his mouth next to Puck’s year. “Thank you,” he whispers, voice low, and Puck curses that his mom and Hannah will be back relatively soon.

“You’re welcome, blue eyes,” he murmurs back after a moment, and Kurt follows him back into the bedroom without a sound.

In fact, Kurt’s barely slipped back into his shirt when there’s the sound of a key in the door, and Hannah and Rina spill into the apartment, Hannah chattering about her project. They disappear into Hannah’s room, and Puck heads towards the kitchen to find something for he and Kurt to eat.

They keep working on their assignments after eating, before Puck starts writing down a song and Kurt pulls out the study manual for one of the remaining certification tests he has to write. It’s only when Puck’s mom knocks on the door frame asking him to put his guitar away that they realize how late it’s grown.

“Oh, I should go,” Kurt stifles a yawn. “I didn’t realize the time.”

“M’kay,” Puck agrees reluctantly, and he pulls Kurt into his lap for a moment. “Call me when you get home, blue eyes. You act just as tired now as you did last night.”

“Okay.” Kurt smiles and gives him a kiss. “Be good,” he says as he stands.

“I’m always good.” Puck grins as they walk to the door, and Kurt slips out with a final, answering grin.

It doesn’t take long before Puck’s phone lights up, the new ringtone for Kurt singing another line from the same song, and Puck smiles as he answers. “Hey, blue eyes.”

“Hi.” He can hear the smile in Kurt’s voice. “I’m home, safe and sound.”

“Good.” Puck huffs. “Well, not _good_ , ‘cause I’d rather you still be here, but.”

Kurt giggles a little. “I know. Me too. Or you here. Whichever.”

“Exactly. Maybe me there, I had another song or two.”

“Luckily my younger sibling stays up late.” Puck can hear Kurt climbing the stairs and his voice gets a little louder on that sentence, probably as he passes Finn’s room.

“Your younger sibling has issues, K. He’s got a whole list of words we’re not supposed to say.”

“I’ve noticed that.” Kurt’s tone is bemused and then he sighs. “Okay, definitely you should be here, my bed’s bigger.”

Puck closes his eyes. “Okay, I’m hanging up now before you make me completely crazy, blue eyes.”

Kurt’s answering laugh is low and full of delight. “Dully noted, baby. Good dreams, hmm?”

“You know it. Be good.”

“I’m always good.”

 

Kurt just lies on his bed after ending the call, staring at the wall bemusedly. “I don’t stay up _that_ late,” Finn says, from the doorway.

“Later than Hannah,” Kurt answers, flicking his eyes towards Finn.

“Oh, that’s true. She probably shouldn’t be up at midnight.”

“Or even ten.” Kurt shrugs and sits up slightly. “Makes it a little hard for Puck to write.”

“Could he come over here and write?” Finn asks. “We don’t have 8 o’clock bedtimes.”

“Sometimes I think Dad could use one,” Kurt laughs. “Don’t you?”

“Burt is grumpy sometimes. But I did _not_ say that.”

“My lips are sealed.” Kurt grins and does that silly pantomine of locking up his lips, because Finn gets the most ridiculous face every time he does it.

“So, where _were_ you all day, dude,” Finn asks, still grinning. “I feel like I haven’t seen you at all, and there you were, talking to Puck on the phone. Didn’t you have enough togetherness today?”

Kurt rolls his eyes a little at the last question. “Today or yesterday?” he answers instead.

“Wait, is that a trick question?” Finn asks. “Because of it’s after midnight?”

“Fine, Saturday or Sunday?”

“Both.”

“Um, let’s see. Saturday we drove down near Cincinnati; we went to Ikea and had dinner. Today I went to work in the morning and then over to Puck’s where we did the oh-so-exciting task of studying.”

“You guys shop, like, a _lot_.”

“Actually, we didn’t buy anything.” Kurt frowns a little. “Except for cinnamon buns. I assume you found those in the kitchen?”

“Uhh...maybe?” Finn says, sounding guilty and making a face to match.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t figure any of those six would be left when I got home,” Kurt grins. “And it’s more about getting out of Lima for a day than anything.”

Finn nods. “Yeah, that part’s probably fun. And I didn’t eat all six of them.”

“You let your mother have one?”

“Half,” he mumbles. “Burt ate the other half and told me not to tell you.”

Kurt sighs and shakes his head. “I swear, sometimes I think Dad wants drive me crazy. More than normal for parents driving children crazy, I mean. At least Carole got a little bit.” He gestures towards his desk. “We got enough for everyone in glee club for tomorrow.”

“You _may_ have gotten enough for everyone in glee club,” Finn muses. “Or you may have gotten enough for me to eat them twice. Anyway, I think parents spend more time driving you crazy when they’re used to it just being the two of you.”

“Probably. And don’t you dare touch those, Finn.” Kurt raises an eyebrow. “I was very good and didn’t eat any. Or buy anything else there, which. That’s just _weird_.” He shakes his head. “We did run into one of the guys from Dalton, that was weird too.”

“Which one?”

“Trey. I forget his full name, he’s a something something the third. Heavyset?”

“Oh! Fat Warbler!”

Kurt snorts as he laughs. “Did you nickname all of them?”

“Um. No?” Finn twists his mouth up and looks away, because he obviously _did_ nickname all of them.

Kurt just laughs. “Riight. Maybe you should be charge of greeting them on Saturday.”

“I’ll call them all ‘sir.’ How’s that? Good day to you, sir. Will you find your seat please, sir?” He says the last two in an awful fake British accent.

“I think that might frighten all of us.” Kurt shudders dramatically before yawning. “Anyway, yes, Trey, who was apparently there with his mother, and asked all sorts of questions, so.” Kurt shrugs.

“Oh. Is that gonna cause a problem, do you think? I mean, do you think he could tell you two guys are, you know?”

“Problem? I don’t know. Could he tell? If he couldn’t, he’s deeply, deeply stupid.”

“You don’t think he’ll say something at Invitationals, though?” Finn asks. “I mean, he could, and then what?”

Kurt sighs and shrugs again. “I don’t know. I tend to think it’s going to be chaotic enough that we can just evade him or something. That many show choirs in one place?”

“Heh, yeah. Like a room full of Rachels.”

“Yes. More or less.” Kurt smirks slightly. “And Aural Intensity’s coming, which means April will be there, so that will be interesting too.”

“The girl you were telling me about, right? The one you met in Dayton.”

“Yes, the one that thinks Santana is hot, or some other similar adjective.”

“Santana _is_ hot,” Finn muses. “But super crazy. Also super gay.”

“That last part works out fine for April,” Kurt says dryly.

“Yeah, that’s true. Hey, do you think they’d maybe--”

“No.”

“All I was gonna say was--”

“No, Finn.” Kurt rolls his eyes. “What would you think if I told you that, say... Tina really wanted me to--”

“What? Sing a duet?”

Kurt snorts. “Sure, that’s what you were going to say.”

“I love my girlfriend,” Finn grins. “Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a nice duet. Just, you know, hearing one or whatever.”

“Right.” Kurt gives Finn a doubtful look. “Speaking of duets, I have a nice one planned. Me, and my pillow.”

“Hint taken, dude.”

“Good night, brother,” Kurt mumbles.

“Night, Kurt.”


End file.
